


Let me tell you a story

by stormyphoenixx



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A little bit of voice kink maybe?, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, NSFW, Nawashi Aziraphale, Sexual Content, Shibari, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormyphoenixx/pseuds/stormyphoenixx
Summary: “What’s on your mind, angel?”Crowley’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, but perhaps it’s because Aziraphale is kissing his neck languidly, as they snuggle on the sofa.“I’ve read a very interesting book, but it’s not one of my beloved novels. It is about a particular...human accomplishment, we could say. One I'd like to experiment with you, dearest.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77
Collections: The Bond Zine





	Let me tell you a story

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!  
> Here I am with the piece I've written for The Bond Zine, a zine focused on shibari. It's been my first time being published, and I still scarcely believe it!  
> Beta'd by the awesome chamyl and Edensfallenangel, whom I thank profusely.  
> Go check out @thebondzine on Instagram and Twitter to check out the amazing artists I've had the honour of being featured with and their works!

If anyone were ever allowed to check it out personally, they’d say Aziraphale's bookshop is a treasure trove. Collections of precious first editions and signed manuscripts are on display all around, but some of the most treasured gems are hidden among the shelves and into the corners. One of them is an unexpected gift Aziraphale received from an old Japanese book dealer he'd been in contact with during the 1970s. It’s a book about the art of shibari. Aziraphale filed away the new acquisition, promising himself he’d find a quiet evening to read it. 

  
But the shibari manual ends up forgotten. Until Aziraphale finds it again after the Armageddon’t, while he’s doing inventory, and it finally catches the angel's full attention. He might actually have a use for that, now, so he settles down with a glass of wine, a notebook, and a pen, and gets lost in the pages. 

  
*** 

  
“What’s on your mind, angel?” 

  
Crowley’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, but perhaps it’s because Aziraphale is kissing his neck languidly, as they snuggle on the sofa. 

  
“I’ve read a very interesting book, but it’s not one of my beloved novels. It is about a particular...   
human accomplishment, we could say. One I'd like to experiment with you, dearest.” Aziraphale’s voice is low, with a hint of mischief, and he often pauses as he’s quite busy worshipping the thin, beautiful column of his lover's throat. 

  
“I’m game, angel,” Crowley breathes, whining quietly as the angel stops. 

  
“Well, get undressed then,” Aziraphale asks, then kisses him soundly for a few seconds and Crowley rushes to obey. Aziraphale is soon gifted with the sight of the naked, lithe demon languidly draped over the sofa, all muscles and bones, serpentine and sensuous, his cock already hard and his golden gaze burning with longing. His mouth suddenly feels parched.

  
“Come here. Kneel on the carpet, if you please,” is the angel's gentle command. Crowley steps closer, kneels at Aziraphale’s feet and stands up on his knees, looking at his lover with eyes full of expectation. Aziraphale gingerly takes the demon's chin and raises it, his thumb resting on Crowley’s bottom lip. 

  
“Do you trust me, love?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley gives a curt nod, and the other acknowledges it by pushing his finger into Crowley’s yielding mouth and down onto his soft tongue. 

  
“Close your eyes and keep them that way. And relax. If you ever need it, you have your safe word.” 

  
Crowley complies. Now his world is black, and he’s in his angel’s hands. Aziraphale’s presence feels like sunlight on his eyelids, warm and near. 

  
He hears the soft sound of the angel’s steps circling. 

  
“So,” Aziraphale’s begins, an arm snaking around Crowley’s chest and pressing him back against his chest, body following limp as he manoeuvres him, “centuries ago, in Japan, they used to restrain prisoners with ropes. This practice, intended to be used as torture, was called _hojojutsu_.” His voice glides over the syllables in a perfect Japanese pronunciation – the angel is well-versed in languages, he knows many of them and for reasons that range from trivial to valid – as something rough and long slides across Crowley's skin before his wrists are brought together. Suddenly, he realises Aziraphale is tying a rope around them, the angel’s hands firm yet gentle, and Crowley shivers from head to toe. 

  
“Metal was rare, but natural fibers were not, so the Japanese would produce a huge quantity of rope. Under the Edo dynasty, this practice began to be used in an erotic context, thus something new began.” The rope goes around Crowley’s narrow shoulders a few of times, then another solid knot is tied behind his back. His pose resembles that of a man kneeling in prayer, but his hands balled into fists. In fact, Crowley is praying – for the angel to keep going. He’s under the spell of Aziraphale’s low, melodious voice that sends thrills down his spine and makes his cock throb, absorbing every word, savouring every sound and the experience of being restrained. 

  
“What they invented is a practiced now called shibari : the art of restraining. Westerners put emphasis on the final result, while Easterners are more keen on the process of tying someone up itself,” one of Aziraphale’s hands tugs at Crowley’s short hair, pulling his head backwards, then the angel slowly drags the rope around Crowley’s bare neck, a hint of pressure on the throat. He knows the demon secretly loves to be restricted and manhandled, and this move indeed drags a few choked moans out of Crowley. “Beauty and pleasure are in the journey, more than in the destination. The Japanese are all about appreciating beauty while it lasts, knowing it will soon fade. _Mono no aware_ , they say.” 

  
The rope slips away to hang down along Crowley’s spine when the speech is done, and everything is silent again. Aziraphale hugs Crowley from behind, bodies adhering to each other, and Crowley gasps as he feels Aziraphale's erection flush against him. 

  
“How do you feel, love?” the angel whispers against the demon's ear. 

  
“’s hard to explain,” Crowley’s voice is strained. “Helpless, but safe. Knowing that it’s you who tied me up… I like it.” 

  
Aziraphale's hands roam across Crowley’s chest, feeling the ropes biting into the flesh, finding one hard nipple and then continuing down, touching the barely protruding ribs as if they were keys of a finely made musical instrument. 

  
“Well, then,” the angel goes on, briefly nibbling at the demon's soft earlobe, “I’m going to make you feel even better, my beloved.” 

  
The words earn a breathy moan from Crowley, already drowning in sensations, yet also craving more and more and more, craving to drown into his angel's love.   


**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as @stormyphoenix


End file.
